


The Origins of Regulus Arcturus Black

by bonniobonnott



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Death, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonniobonnott/pseuds/bonniobonnott
Summary: Whenever Regulus Arcturus Black died, most assumed the sole remaining male heir to the most ancient and noble House of Black had died trying to escape from the grip of the Death Eaters. For nearly two decades the truth of what claimed his life remained a mystery, but we are all aware of how the rest of it goes. Who was the man who sacrificed his life in the name of redemption? Who was the younger brother of the infamous Azkaban Escapee Sirius Black? This is his story before his final act.
Kudos: 4





	The Origins of Regulus Arcturus Black

**HEIR OF THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK**

before your brother, there had been concerns about the future of the house of black, but with the birth of sirius regulus black those fears faded away. the legacy of the black was secured, and while your brother was intended, you were not. that didn’t mean you were less wanted, but you would always be the second son, the spare heir, a fate you would have readily accepted had you know what was to come when you were young. you unexpectedly came a month early, with weak lungs, and the healer didn’t hold out much hope you would survive the night. you survived though, and you are rewarded the following evening with a name: regulus arcturus black. you may be the son of walburga and orion, just as sirius is, but your story has a much more complicated beginning than that. but that’s your life, isn’t it? a complicated beginning, a complicated middle, and inevitably, a complicated end. it’s your destiny, it’s your curse.

**REGULUS**

being raised in the noble and most ancient house of black, your life was never going to be average by any means. no, your life is filled with opulence and grandeur that some could only ever dream of, and you had to learn how to be prim and proper at all times. while you’re practically given the key to castle, able to have almost anything you could dream of, all you wanted was peace and quiet. parties were too loud and too crowded, they made you feel like you were suffocating, though you never verbalize it. no, you hold your tongue and smile, doing everything you can to earn even the slightest iota of approval from your parents. even the slightest nod of approval was enough to keep you going for days, and more so, the fear of what would happen if you didn’t succeed in earning their approval. whenever the lights went low though, and the family was behind closed doors, that’s when you were able to grow and thrive.

neither of your parents were very attentive, the pair raised you the same way their parents had raised them: by allowing others to do it. in your case, your tutors, and your house elf, kreacher. in the house elf, you found your closest friend, and your biggest ally in the noble and most ancient house of black. you’d share your treats with him, show him kindness, and in return, he willingly gave you his utmost loyalty. he was a friend more than anything else, and you promised yourself you would cherish him every day for the rest of your life, and you did.

between sessions with tutors, and parties and other engagements, your favorite thing in the world was the black family tapestry that was stuck tight and fast to the wall. it always enamored you as a child, and you spent hours admiring it, staring at the face embroidered into the fabric, the names of those who came before you. it had been around for centuries before you, and it will continue to exist for centuries after you, of that you are entirely sure. it’s the crown jewel of the family, a memoir in pictures of their lineage, of the witches and wizards that kept the bloodline pristine. you used to trace names with your finger tips, long before you knew to spell, and stare in fear at those blasted off of the family tapestry throughout the ages, destined to be forgotten in time, but their sins never would be.

your mother could tell you why every person was taken off the tapestry, every sin they committed, and all the disgrace they brought the black name. iola, who married a muggle man, putting love above her duty to their family. phineas black junior, who supported the muggle rights centuries ago. marius black, whose only sin was being born without magic. cedrella, who married a weasley, blood traitors. even eduardus limette black had a tale of his own. all these names were people you never knew, and never would, and yet the thought of ending up like them, blasted off the impeccable and infamous tapestry gave you chills down your spine. you didn’t believe in a god, but still, you prayed that you never had to endure the fate of being erased, of being referred to only in harsh words and in stories told to scare children. being forgotten that would be a fate worth than death itself, you were sure of it. you were never prepared for the day your brother would be burned off the tapestry, and doomed to a fate you were sure was worse than death, and when it came, it knocked the air out of you, and you were once again the scared little boy sitting in front of it horrified. some things never change, and you wish this the tapestry, and your family, had been one of those things.

**ARCTURUS**

whenever you entered the halls of hogwarts for the first time, you knew just how everything would go. you would be sorted into slytherin, your family’s house, and everything would fall into place from there. your whole future had been determined years ago, and it was as certain as the sun rising in the morning. however, when you think about it, you’re reminded of your brother, and how certain his future had been before the hat had changed everything. you remember the disappointment your parents had expressed upon hearing the news, and for only a moment does fear engulfed your poor heart as you imagine your quivering hand writing down the same disappointing news down on the parchment to tell your parents the news. when the hat it perched on your head though, it recognizes you as what you are, a member of the noble house of black, and sorts you accordingly.

unlike your brother in gryffindor, there’s a family legacy to uphold here, and you do everything you can to keep your head high. generations of your family have come before you in the hallowed halls, and you know better than to disappoint. so you study, and you behave like the well-mannered boy you are supposed to be, eventually turning to quidditch. you become the seeker for slytherin following the graduation of your predecessor, and just like in your studies, you make sure to attend practice religiously. on the pitch, flying through the air, you could forget the growing tensions between your brother and your parents, and the weight of their expectations. it was a dream before it devolved into a nightmare at the age of fourteen.

things with your parents and your brother had never been good, even in the best of times. their relationship with him has always been more volatile and violent, and it’s getting worse as the years gone by. he never had a fair chance, and he’d given up all attempts to appease them years ago. it’s pressure building up in the kettle, and both sides are waiting for it to reach the boiling point, and it does when you’re in your fourth year. your parents have gone too far, and their heir has had enough. he packs up his things and leaves the manor, never to return. you’re sure he will, he’s always come back before, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait… and it never happens. your brother is gone, and he’s not coming back.

your mother is ever the proactive one, and at the first real opportunity, she blasts him from the family tapestry. like a child, you run your fingers over the scorched fibers once she’s gone, and your heartaches in your chest begging for relief that will never come. kreacher tries to comfort you, tries to tell you it’s for the best, that things were never going to improve as long as your brother acted the way he did, and for the first time you can remember, you found no comfort in that. your brother, the boy who so stubbornly papered his room gryffindor banners if only to irritate your parents, the only one who knew exactly what you’d gone through was gone, and there was nothing you could do to fix it. you were the heir now, the weight of the world resting on your shoulders as you grasped at the tapestry, the one you’d so admired as a child you now wanted to rip to shreds for what it meant. it meant your brother’s name was never mentioned in the house anymore, it was as if he died, or worse yet, that he never existed. now it was just you, in center stage, expected to bare the weight with a smile, and you tried, oh lord, did you try.

**BLACK**

you can’t change what has happened to your brother or your uncle, but you can do this for your family. when rumblings start to make their way around the circles of pureblood supremacy, of cleaning the wizarding world up and restoring the right order of things, you know what you have to do long before the time comes around. your parents are too old, too tired to join the ranks. time has taken it’s toll, but it doesn’t stop them from spouting their opinions, and writing them out in the owls they send you. you get the dark mark in your sixth year, and it burns in a way you could never describe, but you wear it underneath the arms of your cloak with a sense of satisfaction for awhile. why should you be ashamed of something you believe in? in the idea that things needed to be fixed? that order should be restored? you’d be a hero one day, you’d be a son that could make orion and walburga proud unlike your brother. you would be the prodigal son, you would bring honor to the house of the most noble and ancient house of black, even if it killed you, and in the end, it just might.

**R.A.B.**

it’s been two years since you took upon the dark mark, and pledged yourself to a cause that you’re wavering on. while you stand by your beliefs, as flawed as they are, the actions and lengths to which they are willing to go to accomplish their mission are far to great. you agreed to support a new order, you never defended the murder and slaughter of innocents. revolution comes at a price, and you’re unwilling to pay for it in the lives of others. you miss the days you could spend hours on the quidditch pitch, ignorant to the world around you. you aren’t a child anymore though, expectations are piling up on your chest threatening to suffocate you. appearances, your name, your studies, and your dedication to a man who has lost your favor.

for your entire life, you have done what has been expected of you, whatever it took to be the little prince your parents wanted you to be, while on the inside a lifetime of unsaid words and crushed dreams are bubbling just beneath the surface in the name or preserving your place on the family tapestry that you've now come to loathe. for eighteen years you have been the man they wanted you to be, and maybe, just maybe, it’s time for you to be yourself, before there is no time left, and the world never gets to see who regulus black really was underneath those fake smiles, agreeable comments, and proper behavior. do you even know yourself? do you know who you are underneath the mask you put on? are you anything without it, or are you just a ghost of the man who have been? only will tell, and time is something that’s running short for the youngest son of the house of black. with information in hand, as the clock ticks in your ears so loud you can’t hear anything else you are left with a choice, and it’s now or never.


End file.
